With the release date for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One rapidly advancing, I feel obliged to do my duty as an overgrown fanboy and dedicate today's post to man I've loved since I was seven: Harry Potter.
That's right! I'm still obsessed with all things Potter-related. I'm a Potterphile, or a Pothead or something like that. And I have the DVDs, soundtracks, trading cards, chocolate frog cards, action figures and curiously-similar articles of clothing as the movie character to prove it. The story behind my obsession is a rather thrilling tale, I might add, so dip your face into this Pensieve here and let me take you back about eleven years ago...
Sometime before I turned eight, probably in the late winter of 1999, I was just getting used to second grade and doing what I loved best at the time, which was voraciously consuming a wide array of books- Clue-themed mysteries, the Magic Tree House series, and a "classic" novel here and there that I picked off the shelf that no one neared (I once borrowed a copy of The Last of the Mohicans, last checked out by my dad in the early seventies). One night my mom decided to introduce me to something new, something she figured I would enjoy, since I enjoyed employing my imagination while reading (how else could I discover mummies in morning or swim with dolphins at daybreak?). She presented me with a paper-back copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and I sat down to read it immediately (I usually read about three books at a time back in the day...oh juvenile Brendan, where are you now?).
I began the first paragraph and was introduced to Vernon Dursley of 4 Privet Drive, who produced drills for an important company called Grunnings, and promptly tossed the book onto the shelf on the other side of the room, thinking to myself, "What a boring book. Let's see what the Animorphs are cooking up!" Thus ended my first experience in the long relationship to come with Harry Potter. Things stayed dormant for a couple months, until I don't know what happened, maybe I felt bad for judging a book by the first paragraph (let this be a lesson to you, kids- don't judge a book by its cover), but all I remember is that there was a veritable explosion- I became infatuated with the three books already released in the series. My earliest memory of reading HP is during the St. Agnes Read-In, where us second graders brought sleeping bags to school, dressed in our jammies and curled up all day with our favorite books. I think I just brought two: The Sorcerer's Stone and The Chamber of Secrets, and I'm pretty sure I read both of them within the space of about five hours. Which is pretty crazy for a just-turned eight year old.
For the next several months, literally all I read were the two aforementioned books, as well as their sequel, The Prisoner of Azkaban. At this point it was cute- little Brendan found his first true passion since Thomas the Tank Engine, let's watch him go! To encourage this obsession, my dear mother once again stepped in and signed me up for a contest without telling me, one which allowed 500 lucky readers across America to have a copy of The Goblet of Fire shipped to their door on the day of its release. That day, I woke up early and begged and pleaded with my mom to take me to Barnes & Noble to buy this book, which she consented to do, but only after Grandma came over for a little coffee and a chat. AHHHHHHHHHH OMG JUST HURRY UP ALREADY GRANDMA. Grandma finally said those magic words, "Well! Looks like I should probably get going..." (YEAH PROBABLY). I graciously and speciously offered her my arm and walked her to the door with the intent of escorting her to her car in order to get her off my hands so I could jump into the backseat of our van and await our departure. So we get to the front door and there's a big yellow package laying at the bottom of the door frame with my name on it. Consequently, I dropped Grandma's hand from mine and inspected the package 'cause, come on, who doesn't like getting a package (sorry Grandma)? To my incredulity and wonder, it was a new, mint-condition copy of The Goblet of Fire! In my sheer euphoria and inability to come to grips with reality, I began to LOL as I sat Indian-style in the doorway, hugging my new Harry Potter book. "Oh ho ho! I nearly tripped over that when I walked in this morning, I meant to tell you!" WHAAAAAAAT GRANDMA. Whatever. I had mine.
Then for the next year almost all I read (and re-read) was Harry Potter. At this point now, my parents began to get a little nervous. "Why is this kid so enchanted with a make-believe wizard?" they probably thought, though not to themselves. They approached me one night as I lay curled up on my bed reading one of the four HP books and advised me to move on to another book. "You spend far too much time reading this silly Harry Potter series. It's all good, but you need to expand your horizons instead of devoting all your time to HP. We love you, honey, but we think you're a little too old for this." Ouch. That really stung. When they left the room, I thought long and hard about their words. Half a second later I dived right back into my book and read on. Oh yeah, and then there was one time in September of my eleventh year when on the way to school, my mom turned to me and said, "You know you're not going to Hogwarts this year, right?" My parents really didn't invest a lot of faith in me. But I knew what I was doing. Suckers.
2001 was a big year for us. We saw the release of book #5, The Order of the Phoenix, which featured the first major death (sorry Cedric, but no one saw you as that pivotal to the 4th book). In that year we also saw the first movie come out. This was huge- for once we were not asked to rely simply upon our own ideas of what characters looked like while reading the books. Finally we could watch our favorite books played out on screen! However, it seems like a lot of people really hate the film series. I don't like to look at the movies as attempts to directly adapt the book to the screen- maybe during the first viewing- but instead I like to see how the movie entertains me. As I've stated before, I really like Rupert Grint, and I think Daniel Radcliffe is hilarious, and there are so many talented actors and actresses in the movies that make it cooler to watch, it sort of brings these great talents to the same level as me- we all take some sort of stock in the series.
I'm running out of time, so let me try to speed things up here. I grew up and began to attend midnight releases of the following books, starting with Order of the Phoenix. It was always my pleasure to stay up late and wait out for my copy of the book, take it home and read until I fell asleep. My goal each time was always to finish it within the day, which may or may not have happened. Then once I was old enough to be out really late on my own, I started, once again with the Order of the Phoenix, to attend the midnight premiers of the movies. This was a great way to see great movies with my friends and make memories. OBVIOUSLY, I dressed up for all these events! To sum it up, midnight releases were awesome- you could get sorted into houses, drink and eat Harry Potter-themed snacks, find people who were equally as obsessed as you and have a magical good time.
I realize only now that there are so many side stories involved with this topic, so I'll save all that and leave you guys with this:
I don't know why I fell in love with the series as much as I have. I guess I just read it at the right age- I literally grew up with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Sure, I didn't battle dark wizards or compete in Triwizard Championships, but I've always found that the most readable, enjoyable and identifying themes throughout the series are those that I myself have experienced, too- love, friendship, school, family, death. At times, it may have seemed like I was bordering on the fanatic side, but I think with every similar jacket or shirt I bought or every extra inch I let my hair grow over my face I was just attempting to identify with Harry even further.
I used to get told all the time that I looked like Harry Potter or Daniel Radcliffe, and I loved it. When I went to the midnight release of Half-Blood Prince, a gaggle of girls screamed and ran up to me, asking for my autograph because they thought Daniel Radcliffe decided to stop by Springfield, Illinois for the night. As I got older, though, I sort of got tired of hearing it, much like Harry tires of being told he looks like his father (but with his mother's eyes). Now that I look quite different than I used to, I sort of miss hearing those comments. It's not that I want to look like this again, but I miss the innocence of my youth, of my Harry Potter days. It was tough reading that last page of The Deathly Hallows, and it'll be even tougher to see the credits roll for The Deathly Hallows Part Two. But I'm so looking forward to it anyway.
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